Gray Areas
by astarwholistens
Summary: This story gives both Ramses' and Nefret's separate accounts of a single, suggestively intimate night, set during Book 9 - Seeing a Large Cat.
1. From Manuscript H

Occurs during Seeing a Large Cat.

All rights to characters, places, and story themes belong to the author of the Amelia Peabody Series, Elizabeth Peters. I am merely borrowing them.

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From Manuscript H –

Ramses awoke to a soft creak - over the years he had attuned his sleeping self to wake and be ready for action at any sound of disturbance, just like his mother. He hesitated, his groggy mind thinking there was a goddess standing in his doorway, until he realized who it was - Nefret. She was bathed in moonlight from the open window behind her, and her hair ruffled in the breeze. At first he thought she was undressed, but as his eyes adjusted to the moonlight, he noticed the gauzy fabric surrounding her. She was wearing only her nightgown which clung to her body in a way that left nothing to the imagination.

"Nefret, my girl, what is wrong?" He asked with concern.

"Ramses, you ARE here. I had such a terrible dream... "

"Was it of..." Of what? The Oasis she grew up in, where she was once High Priestess of Isis? He recalled his mother asking her that same question a few days ago. "Do you remember what it was about?" he amended his question.

"Yes... Can I come in? Please?" She was standing at ease, but a quiver in her voice as she said the word "please", a word she seldom used before doing anything she wanted, made his spine tingle.

"Of course. Come sit, and tell me about it." He motioned her towards the chair at his writing desk. He had organized the papers on his writing desk, for once, before going to bed. He had finally finished his work on the dream papyrus, and hoped she would not disturb it. Instead of sitting at his desk, she came right to him, and sat down on the side of his bed. He instinctively pulled the covers up over his chest, almost to his chin. He had gotten in the habit of sleeping sans garments during the time he and David spent with the Sheikh; he felt wholly embarrassed to have Nefret in his room while he was in such a vulnerable state.

She looked at him with wide blue eyes. It seemed to Ramses, that she might be trying to read his mind. She was looking at him with enough intensity that he was half afraid she COULD read his mind if only she had the will. She raised her hand to the sticking plaster on his forehead, and her eyes blurred with unshed tears.

"Nefret?" Ramses started. "Tell me about your dream. Perhaps talking about it will erase the fear you have, and you will have no other recurrences of this particular dream."

Her eyes focused on his and she blurted out "I dreamt of you!"

Taken aback by this, Ramses could only stare. She was dreaming of him?

"We were alone on the dahabiya." She began. Ramses decided not to interrupt her in case it halted her narrative. "It was late evening, and the crew were below. David, Aunt Amelia, and the Professor - oh I can't remember, but they weren't there either. We were sitting in the saloon - I was playing the piano and singing, and you were in David's spot, turning the pages for me. It was lovely. All of a sudden, you stiffen and run out the door. I try to catch you up, but before I can, you are on deck, fighting a man. A tall, dirty, grimy man. I knew, instinctively, it was Scudder, even though I've never seem him out of costume, that I know of. Just as I got within range, Scudder pulls a knife and plunges it upwards into your side, right up to the hilt. You stagger backwards. Our eyes meet and you whisper my name. Then you stumble overboard. I run and jump in after you, but cannot find you. The dream ends with me lost and alone in the water, screaming you name."

Ramses could not, would not move. That dream... He has had similar ones himself... Could it be a premonition?

"Would I be able to stay here... with you? Just for a little while?" She hesitates while asking this, like she is expecting him to say no. She is shivering.

"Always." He whispers. "If you wouldn't mind turning around so I can put on my trousers, you can stay as long as you'd like." He anticipated that she would argue. She had made her views clear several times in the past that what he deemed improper, like her watching him dress, she deemed silly. He has always thought it was because of her upbringing, but, he realizes now, she never questioned David if he requested she give him his privacy.

"Take your time. I will be just outside." She rose, and walked towards the door. He got up, and pulled up his trousers as fast as possible, deciding not to tie them up. It would be too uncomfortable for when he went back to bed.

"I'm done." He says, just as she reaches for the door. Instead of leaving through it, she pushes it to.

She turns to see him bathed in moonlight himself. She seemed quite upset, and… nervous?

"Come here, my girl. As you can see, I am not harmed. You can inspect me from boot to head if you wish." He hoped his joke would break the tension he felt build between them at that moment. She smiled and replied,

"How can I inspect you from boot to head when you are not wearing any boots?" She rushed to him and hugged him tight. He gave her a quick squeeze and loosened her hold on him. He took her by the hands and led her back to the bed.

Sliding in first, he kept the covers raised for her to slip in beside him. She obeyed, but folded the sheets down passed her hips so they only covered her legs. He assumed she was warm, for her face was still flushed, but the night air was cool. She curled up on her side, facing him and closed her eyes. That is when he allowed himself to really notice her. Her cheeks were reddened with heat, but she had goosebumps on her arms. He also noticed just how thin her nightgown was - he could almost see her body underneath it. The curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the supple mounts... He looked at her face instead. The moonlight spilled into the room, directly on the bed, on her, bright enough so that he could see her plainly as if she were standing in direct sunlight. He had never loved her more than he did in this moment, when she was vulnerable and in need of comfort. And in his bed. In his wildest dreams, he would never have thought such an event would happen. And now she was here, needing him. His arousal was intense, but he must remain a gentleman.

Ramses became aware then, how inexperienced he was in matters of romance. He did not know what to do with his hands, his arms. Should he hold her? Not touch her at all? That seemed awkward enough to raise suspicion, since the bed was built for only one person to sleep comfortably. If he remained stiffened as he was, she might think he does not want her there. He raised his hand, and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. She was looking at him now, watching him, assessing him. He rolled over onto his back.

As he moved, so did she, curling up closer to him, against his side and entwining her arms through his as if she where hugging it. Her head laid on the pillow, close enough to him that he could pretend she was nuzzling into his shoulder.

"Ramses, my sweet boy, could you talk?" She mummers sleepily.

"What?" He asks, sure he heard her wrong.

"Talk to me. I'd like to listen to your voice for a little while if you don't mind."

"What would you like me to say?" He asks stunned that she would request such a thing. Normally everyone was trying to keep him from speaking too much.

"I don't know." She admits. "Tell me about the dream papyrus, or your work, or make up a story. It doesn't matter."

He definitely would not tell her about the dream papyrus, he thought. That piece of work is what made him so uncomfortable with her dream in the first place, and he definitely did not want to make her uncomfortable. He couldn't talk about his work either, because he hadn't been working... Unless she or his mother invited themselves along. When they were alone, he and David were following the Colonel or Dolly in disguise. If she knew that, she would insist on accompanying them.  
"A story then..." He agreed. He had very little experience making up stories, but was willing to try, for her.

"Once upon a time…" He stopped. He had no idea where to go from there. Nefret laughed softly.

"You really aren't used to inventing stories, are you? Perhaps you could tell me a true one then… of a time before you rescued me?" she suggested. She used the term "you" in such a way that made him feel as if he had been the only one to preform that deed. This gave Ramses an idea. She knew the account of how he and his parents came to be at the Oasis, but she had never heard his own version of what he did while they were there.

"When we - that is mother, father, and I - were stranded in the dessert, I thought we were done for. Tarek, or Kemit as we knew him at that time, had left us to get help. We did not know then, you will remember, how close we were to the Oasis, yet I felt that we were doomed to remain out there, all of us, in the dessert to die. The last words I remember hearing was father cursing Mr. Forthright for getting lost and forcing us to chase after him in such a wasteland. I agreed with him undoubtedly, since mother was already unconscious, and, I felt certain, heading for the afterlife..."

He continued the story for a few more minutes, before turning his head. Nefret had begun to breath deeply and regularly, telling him that she had already fallen asleep. Her face was inches from his, giving him a perfect view of her countenance. He watched her for a time, worried that any noise or movement he made would wake her. He fell into a waking doze, eyes still open so he did not miss any moment of the sweet smile that was upon her face. His mind began to wander, imagining impossible scenarios in which Nefret sleeping beside him was a natural and regular occurrence. He imagined what it would be like to hold her, to kiss her, and before he knew it, he was. Without conscious thought, he had leaned in, and closed the distance between them. Her lips were soft and malleable beneath his. After several long moments, he realized what he was doing, and jerked his head back, praying she would remain unaware of his inappropriate behaviour. She was brought up as his sister! She would not understand his feelings. And if he had his way, she would never know. Not until he was worthy of her.

His sudden movement caused Nefret to stir. She smiled wider and opened her eyes.

"My apologies, my dear boy, I missed your story. Have you finished it?"

"That's alright." He replied. "I was just getting to the good part. Did I wake you?" He asked, worried that she realized what had happened.

"I don't know what woke me. I was having such a wonderful dream. I was dreaming of you again. You were playing with Bastet – she was just a kitten. Do you miss her?"

"I do." He did not elaborate. He was not in the mood to think of Bastet. "You should go back to sleep, it will be morning soon, and mother has eyes like a hawk. She will notice if you are tired."

Instead of going back to her own room, as Ramses intended by reminding her that morning would soon be upon them, Nefret took his hand and wrapped it around her own. She pulled at him until he was up on his side facing her. She then turned so her back was to him, and pressed herself flush against him. She entwined her legs with his, and wrapped his arm around her waist, resting their joined hands on her diaphragm. He could feel the swell of her breasts brush against the back of his hand every time she took a breath. That, plus having her pressed up against him, and all the movement and wiggling she had done to get comfortable had woken his body from its own slumber. He felt his arousal stiffen against her, and prayed to every god he knew that she would not notice.

"You don't mind, do you? I am quite comfortable, but I can leave if you would prefer." Nefret knew that all she had to do is ask, and he would give in. His English upbringing saw to that.

"I don't mind, as long as you are comfortable. You are comfortable, right? You are not just saying that to get your way?" He joked. He rarely made jokes, but for some reason, she brought them out of him. She shook with silent laughter.

"Would it matter? I do appreciate you letting me stay with you. I know Aunt Amelia would skin us alive if she knew I was here. I really do not understand why a boy comforting a girl is so improper. Would you explain it to me sometime?" Ramses swallowed hard and nearly coked on the air he was breathing. He knew how that conversation would go. And how hypocritical it would be for him to discuss improper actions, and inappropriate behaviours with her when she was currently lying in his bed.

"Perhaps some day we could discuss it. Not now though. Go back to sleep and continue dreaming of Bastet." So she did.

He did as well, falling asleep with the smell of her hair surrounding him. He dreamed of Bastet – or was it the cat he encountered in the Oasis? The cat, whoever it was, was curled up in Nefret's lap. Nefret was laughing and beckoning to him to join her.

Ramses woke with the sun shining in on his face. He was still laying on his side, but the part of the bed where Nefret had slept, was empty. Nefret must have snuck out while he was asleep. He was slow to rise, and even slower to dress. He was trying to recall every moment of the previous night, committing it to memory. It wasn't until he was ready to go to breakfast did he realize just how late it was. The others must already be done with breakfast, and waiting for him before leaving for the dig. On his way out, he grabbed his papers with his translation of the dream papyrus to use as an excuse, if need be.

To his surprise, everyone, including Mrs. Jones, was seated at the breakfast table when he came in. He received the usual greetings from his parents and David. Nefret said nothing.

"Good morning my dear girl, how did you sleep?" He inquired of Nefret, who was positively glowing. It seemed as if she never had a fitful night at all.

"Very well, thank you. And you? You look like you could use a few more hours' sleep." She responded in all innocence. He hesitated, hoping for a conspiratorial grin from her. She knew the reason why he did not get a full nights' rest.

Without hesitation, his mother asked, "Did you go out last night?"

"I promised you I would not, mother." He responded curtly.

"That does not answer my question." She had a keen eye, as he pointed out to Nefret mere hours ago. Or did he? She was certainly acting like nothing untoward had happened last night.

"I did not leave the house last night." He tossed the papers onto the table and seated himself. "I was working. You asked about the dream papyrus, I believe? There is my translation if you would care to read it."

As his mother thumbed through his papers, reading excerpts for the amusement of the others, he tried to catch Nefret's eye. Was she purposely not looking at him? Was she merely pretending that last night never happened. She's not that good of an actor, Ramses thought to himself. Did last night actually happen? The only proof he had was that he had awoken still in his trousers. Perhaps he had forgotten to take them off before going to bed. Or maybe he put them on during his sleep. He recalled reading that sleepwalking was a common malady during moments of distress in one of his mother's psychological texts. And the last several days, weeks even, has been very stressful. He had the crease on his forehead to prove it.

Ramses remained pensive throughout breakfast. Whether Nefret had come to him last night, or not, it was truly one of the most intimate encounters of his life. He wished it to be real, but could not confirm it himself. He had dreamed of Nefret every night since he had first seen her. A vivid dream perhaps? The only way to know for certain would be to ask her, which he refused to do. If it were true, she quite obviously preferred not to acknowledge the matter, and if it were not true, he would make her quite uncomfortable. Suggesting that she might come to him, in nothing but her nightgown, and demand to share his bed – it was ridiculous! She would laugh at him, or worse.

He decided it must have been a dream. One which he would cherish for all time. As difficult it would be after that dream – was it truly a dream? - to pretend that she was merely his adopted sister, Ramses felt that it was for the best. He already had years of practice hiding his true feelings; he would keep them hidden until he could hide them no longer.

"Enough of this nonsense," said he father, startling Ramses out of his introspection. He tossed his serviette onto the table. "I am off to the tomb. Is anyone coming with me?"

This concludes this excerpt from Manuscript H.


	2. From Letter Collection B

Occurs during Seeing a Large Cat.

All rights to characters, places, and story themes belong to the author of the Amelia Peabody Series, Elizabeth Peters. I am merely borrowing them.

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And now an excerpt from Letter Collection B –

My Dearest Lia:

I have no idea what had come over me – I feel as though my common sense has completely left me. A situation has arisen; I may have gone too far, and I would appreciate your advice.

I have written you earlier describing Miss Dolly, have I not? Well, it would seem that she is not as easily gotten rid of as I had originally thought. She has gotten her claws into Ramses like a kitten, and refuses to let go – I told you what she said after he had helped me save the goat - "I hope you aren't hurt, Miss Forth, but perhaps if you had a gentleman companion of your own to watch over you, Mr. Emerson would not feel the need to come to your rescue every time you got yourself in a scrape." As if I need Mr. Emerson to do anything for me! If he hadn't of been so cursed gallant and let me be, my foot would not have slipped, and he wouldn't have had to help me down the cliff.

It's not as if he enjoys rescuing her either. He and David have been running around Luxor every evening well into the night dressed as natives, following her and the Colonel around, waiting for Scudder to attack. He has attacked once before, and again the other night. When I found out that Ramses had been hurt, I made them promise not to go off without informing me, and yet Ramses and David still refused to confide fully in me. So I went to the Professor – and I'm glad I did.

We had a quick council of war, the Professor and I, and we agreed to add a little laudanum to Aunt Amelia's evening drink. We left just after she went down for the night. We made our way to the dahabiya, the Professor hiding in my room, and I going to Ramses' room to figure out their plans for that night. After confessing to me what he had planned, he condescendingly allowed me to watch him disguise himself. He hates when I refuse to allow him his privacy, but he wasn't fully undressing, and I do love pushing his buttons. As Ramses left to attend to his post, I went to inform the Professor what Ramses had planned, and then went up to the deck to wait with David. He is such a gentle soul; he would not refuse to allow me my due.

I was almost asleep against his shoulder when Scudder showed his face – well, not literally. He was in the water, swimming for the Valley of the Kings, where the Colonel and Miss Dolly were staying, when Ramses jumped in after him. We were not the only ones prepared for an attack. The Colonel came running up to the water, firing his riffle at anything that moved! Ramses was lucky to receive only a crease in his forehead. An inch more, and he wouldn't have survived. To our knowledge, Scudder was not injured. Once the Professor had rescued Ramses from the water, and gave the old bugger a very loud lecture on shooting his riffle wildly, we decided to bring Aunt Amelia into out confidence.

As it turned out, she had deduced, from different evidence of course, the same conclusions we had. She requested the boys stay at the house the next evening instead of on the dahabiya alone. This is when my common sense took a leave of absence.

The afternoon after our midnight adventure, the Colonel and Miss Dolly came to the dig to offer apologies. You should have seen Miss Dolly falling all over herself when she saw Ramses with his head wrapped in cloth as if he had just come home from war. She made quite a fool of herself. And I don't know what happened Lia darling, but something in me snapped. On several occasions he has vehemently admitted to not appreciating her attentions, but I did notice how he watched her – she dresses almost like a woman of the streets, with her low-cut dresses, and corsets that must restrict all but the least amount of oxygen necessary to keep her from keeling over. I was not jealous of her, but of his attention to her. He used to watch me like that once, but something has changed in him recently. A lack of interest, I assume.

I will not bore you with the events of that day, it is not necessary to my narrative. I had been seething with quiet fury all day over Miss Dolly, and had come up with a plan to distract Ramses from her. After everyone had gone to bed, I put my plan in action. I busied myself for a few hours until I knew everyone would be asleep, and then I slipped into my new nightgown – you know the one, you helped me pick out. You joked that it would be improper for me to wear it on any night but my wedding night… Well, I wore it that night, that almost gave Ramses a heart attack with it. I slipped out of my room to his, and cracked the door open. I knew he would wake at any sound – he has always been a light sleeper. He is not as practiced as Aunt Amelia is, and usually remains momentarily groggy. When he woke, all he could do was stare. I made sure to stand in the moonlight in a way that made my garment near see-through. All I had planned was to stand there and allow him a glimpse of my shadowed, unencumbered form and walk away so he felt as if it were a dream. But he reacted quicker than I had anticipated. When he asked me what the matter was, I was so flustered at being caught that I told him I had had a nightmare. He invited he in, and I ended up making something up on the spot. I don't even remember what I said now... but by the time I had finished, he looked as if he had seen a ghost.

I was so caught up in receiving comfort from him, a gesture he rarely provides, that I asked him if I could stay with him for a short time. He agreed on the premise that I leave the room long enough to allow him to put on his trousers. I had no idea he slept sans garments. I felt even more anxious than before when I learned this most interesting fact. He must have had them right by the bed, for it took only seconds for him to put them on - I wasn't even at the door when he said I could turn around. When I did turn around, it was my turn to be stunned - he was standing in the middle of the room - shirtless, boot less, and with only his trousers pulled up and left undone, he looked magnificent. He was watching me as if I were about to do something he disapproved of.

Now don't get me wrong, my girl, I had seen Ramses in similar states of undress, but there had always been other circumstances keeping me from appreciating how much he has grown. And believe me when I say he has grown everywhere - tall and lean, the contours of his muscles showing quite nicely in the moonlight. I felt improper - if I understand the word correctly - to be in his room, with him like that, in my thinnest nightgown. To cover my reaction of seeing him presenting himself so intimately, I pretended to be quite distraught, and hugged him so as to hide my blushing face.

As he loosened my hold, I expected him to sit and chat with me. Instead, he took my hands in his and led me to the bed. As he slid back under the sheets, he kept them raised for me to follow. Moonlight spilled onto the bed from his window, and lying next to him, I felt my anxiety grow. I wasn't sure whether I regretted wearing my new nightgown or not, but I kept the covers down below my hips. The night air was cool, but I felt quite warm, especially in my face and lower regions. My stomach kept doing little flips.

Even during the months they had spent with the Sheikh, I doubt Ramses or David have had any experience spending time with a woman... Ramses looked positively terrified. I thought since he could practically see through my nightgown, his shell might crack and he would do something ungentlemanly, but his English heritage won out. He simply turned over, and refused to look at me. He seemed so uncomfortable, I decided to make my escape - but the next thing I knew, I was waking up with Ramses staring at me. I shudder to think what I had done to earn such a face - I was having quite the intimate dream, not surprising considering the situation I was currently in, and it would have been incredibly embarrassing if I had made any noises. Even after I awoke, my lips were still tingling as if he had really been kissing me.

I was feeling quite irrational now - how dare he be so calm when I felt as if I were melting from the inside out! So I took matters into my own hands... I grabbed his arm and pulled him up onto his side, pressed my body right into him, and wrapped his arm around my waist. The moment I started to move, I felt him. I had studied the male reproductive member during my courses this past summer, but had not imagined anything like it. It only took moments for his arousal to become apparent - by the time I had gotten comfortable, it felt as if a steel rod were being pressed against my backside. I have no idea how long it took him to fall asleep, it felt like hours, but when he did I slipped out of his embrace, and left, happy with what I had accomplished.

My apologies dear, Ramses is your blood relative, you must not wish to be privy to those details. But trust me, I will have no more stories like that. The next morning, Ramses was in quite a disagreeable mood - he barely spoke to me at breakfast, except for the usual greeting. He went so far as to put off leaving the house until he absolutely had to, and even asked Aunt Amelia to accompany us to the temple. I have a feeling he would not be happy if I brought the subject up for discussion. Even if I had the courage, Ramses and I are rarely alone to have such a private conversation; I can barely admit my inappropriate behaviour to you, let alone to David.

You're probably wondering by now why I would need advice. Well my darling, I'll tell you. It would seem that I can not get that night out of my head. I think about it all the time, and imagine scenarios in which I had been a little braver, or Ramses had been a little less gentlemanly. And if any other female came to me with these kind of symptoms, I would tell her it was quite obvious. My question for you is this: what should I do about it? We have grown up as siblings, but the emotions I am experiencing for him are far from familial. Do you think he'd understand? Probably not. He has such a strict belief in right and wrong – there is no gray areas with him which is damned annoying. He would think I had gone mad.

This is where I will leave off, my sister. I hope you are well. Please pass my love on to the others, and I look forward to reading your response to my dilemma.

Always yours,

Nefret

This concludes this excerpt from Letter Collection B.


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